


ti’punch (not in the face!)

by irisdecent cloud (jeadore)



Category: Wanna One (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Ong Seongwoo Being an Idiot, a lot of drinking, and bruno mars songs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-21
Updated: 2018-08-21
Packaged: 2019-06-29 23:31:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15739530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeadore/pseuds/irisdecent%20cloud
Summary: cute bartender by night, kickass taekwondo hero by night too.(Or: five times that Ong Seongwu almost gets punched in the face + once he actually does.)





	ti’punch (not in the face!)

**Author's Note:**

> Dear prompter: thank you so much for such an amazing prompt. I slightly change it, but I still hope you and eveyone who reads this can enjoy it!♥  
> To the cute ongniverse mods: thank you!
> 
> tw: a few homophobic slurs, drinking

**1.**

Minhyun left him like an hour ago, more or less, because he has to rise early for some important meeting at the company he works at and Ong Seongwu might have scoffed a  _ booooring _ just to mess with his friend. He could have gone home too, he had his fun for the night and Minhyun did offer him to share a taxi, but he refused. The night is still young, even if it’s already way past midnight and he’s alone. The latter wouldn’t be an issue if Daniel hadn’t left too last week for a big national dance competition in Busan, which Seongwu doesn’t totally envy him for. Really.

But it doesn’t matter. Because he’s here to ce-le-brate.

People crowd the small dance floor and the sitting area, making it hard for him to reach the bar. Six Hot Shots—or so Seongwu thinks the place it’s called, he didn’t pay too much attention—is one of those hole-in-the-wall places hidden in the outskirts of Hongdae, with chill hip hop music and sometimes an open mic night until midnight. Then it fills ‘til the brim with people and the music turns into something more danceable. It’s not his favourite bar to drink at, but the atmosphere is nice and the employees are hot—especially the guy that received them at the door, that could easily pass as a model or a bodybuilder—so Seongwu doesn’t oppose whenever Minhyun takes him here.

When he finally reaches the bar, he prepares his lungs to scream at whoever is behind the counter over the loud beat of the music. He doesn’t expect some short dude to turn around and look at him with an eyebrow raised.

“Yes? What would you like?” the guy asks, voice clear and loud without even raising his tone. Seongwu halts for an instant in front of such… face. Round eyes, full pouty lips and cheeks a bit chubby. He’s cute, way too cute to be surrounded by a bunch of drunks and a hundred bottles of liquor.

Seongwu blinks.  _ Beer _ , he should ask for a beer. No, not beer. He’s celebrating!

A cocktail. He should ask for a cocktail. A mimosa, maybe.

What escapes from his mouth instead is: “Are you sure you are allowed to be here? Where’s your ID?” Maybe the little dude is the son of the owner. And he’s just helping around.

The guy frowns and, uh-oh, he looks annoyed. “Are you sure you want to stay here? Or do you want me to show you the exit?” he replies, all serious and trying to be menacing. Seongwu isn’t buying it, he’s seen more threatening cupcakes. Hell, he even ate one, courtesy of Park Jihoon—he should have known better than to accept it. There was a reason why Jihoon didn’t eat it. But little dude here? He would be like one of those cupcakes filled with cream, with colourful star-shaped toppings and a cherry on top.

Suddenly he’s kind of hungry.

“Would you like something or not?” the guy insists. He also leans over the counter to look at him straight into his eyes, the neon lights of the bar casting blue and pink hues all over his face.

And, okay, up-close Seongwu can appreciate the small tired lines around the guy’s eyes. But also the pale, acne-free, smooth baby skin.

“Sorry, sorry, dude. I’m just a good citizen worried about possible child labour exploitation. I see kids all day, it’s natural I treat everyone like one,” he excuses himself. Or tries. And, well, it’s not a lie but it’s not completely the truth. Yet the bartender scoffs and smiles, and  _ god _ . It’s utterly cute, lips shaped vaguely like a heart. Maybe if he smiles bigger, it’ll disappear but still be a beautiful smile. “I see kids even in my dreams, I swear. My fellow citizen next to me? An overgrown toddler in my eyes too,” he splutters.

_ Goddamn _ . Woojin was right, he should seriously work on his mouth filter.

The scowl of the client at his side is scary at its best, so Seongwu rushes to half bow in apology. Not his fault if the man is eavesdropping.

At least, the bartender chuckles.

“I’m celebrating so… what’s the specialty of the house?”

The bartender stares at him for a long second, before smiling. “I’ll make you a Ti’ punch. Wait a moment, please,” he says before disappearing under the counter, presumedly to look for the necessary things a Ti’ punch—whatever it is—requires.

Like an expert, little dude grabs a bottle of blanc rum and flips it around a few times before pouring some right into an old-fashioned glass with two ice cubes. A short flair routine, yet Seongwu is in awe. It seems like he’s completely in control, used to the way the bottle swings in the air and falls in his hand. And given by his smirk, he rejoices in Seongwu’s hypnotized stare.

Then he grabs a lime and rolls it firmly near Seongwu’s hands like a silent mock before cutting it in perfect halves. He adds a good squeeze of half a lime and some sort of syrup to the mix and stirs for a few moments. Maybe Seongwu expected him to do something more after all that, something a bit more stunning or flamboyant than just garnish it with slices of lime and a black straw, and  _ ta-dah! _

It looked so easy for a cocktail, like a drink Seongwu could do himself just fine. Nothing to be smug about.

“Damn, this shit is strong,” he shrieks after giving it a try.

For a moment he thinks the bartender is about to ask if it’s something wrong with the drink, it’s unpalatable or if he still wants it. “Can’t you take it?” he says instead, way too amused.

_ Oh, no _ . If this little dude thinks he can dare Ong Seongwu and get away with it, he’s not only way too amused, but way too wrong.

Another sip. This time he takes in the mellow and sweet taste, the refreshing feeling. Maybe more suited for a summer escapade than late night clubbing.

“You’re supposed to drink it in one shot, sir,” the bartender says and somehow the honorific sounds formal and sarcastic, out of place. “Come on, bottoms up!”

Actually it’s not unusual for him to chicken out from a risky dare, but never one that involves alcohol and regrettable decisions. So Seongwu complies. Again and again and again.

Four Ti’ punches later, he’s laughing barely louder than the bartender and screaming whenever a song he likes starts. He kind of wants to dance, but that’d mean losing his spot at the bar and, damn, it is such a good spot with the neon lights, away from any weird pillar and right in front of little red haired cupcake dude.

“I got my dream job!” Seongwu screams before knocking another glass back. The other guy congratulates him, the heart shaped smile blooming again in his face despite the fake annoyance. “Everything about my life is dreamy right now! I got the job, a nice apartment. Studio apartment, but still,” he grimaces and some drops of rum spill on his hand. Maybe he should lick it. “I only need a dream girl. Or boy, or whatever,” he continues, loud and cheerful, as he tries to turn around in the vague direction of the dancing area. Midway he finds this beautiful girl next to him, nice curves and long hair, smiling shyly. Seongwu can’t help himself and winks as he blows a kiss.

The girl’s purple lips close in an amused sexy smirk.  _ Nice _ ,  _ Ong Seongwu _ .

Then he realizes the man behind the girl, slightly familiar. The flared nostrils should have been a clue, but it isn’t until the guy is grabbing Seongwu from the collar of his shirt that he realizes.

“You,  _ fellow good citizen _ ,” he snarls and, nope, he doesn’t look like an overgrown toddler at all. “I’m tired of hearing your bullshit. First you diss me and now you try to hit on my woman? You faggot and a half.”

_ Uh _ . Usually Seongwu would be the primary example of a coward at this point, but he’s been drinking and that equals to liquid confidence and even looser mouth filter.

“First, who still uses that? The right ol’term for me would be  _ halffag _ ,” he says as he tries to pull the hands out of his collar. In vain. Maybe he should hit up the gym as Minhyun mentioned. “And second—woah, let’s slow down with the homophobia and possessiveness. Do you know what it says about you?”

Truth be told, Seongwu doesn’t right now. But apparently the man does know given that his nostrils flare even more and everything in his features screams pure rage. There’s a clenched fist raised over his shoulder too and Seongwu realizes what it means a second later.

“Not in the face!” he screams, ready for a black eye or a busted lip tomorrow.

He doesn’t feel pain at all though. Never feels the hit.

There’s a few exclamations of surprise around them, slightly tuned out by the thumping bass. And when Seongwu opens his eyes—there’s the fist, hovering over his face.

Static.

“I think is time for you guys to leave,” a loud and clear voice says over the music, with a weird tone—between cheery and threatening. When Seongwu turns around, he sees little dude crouched on top of the counter, his arm stretched and a relaxed grin on his lips.

He doesn’t look scared or tired at all. At all.

Also, how did he go up there? The only thing his drunken mind can muster up is that little dude jumped, but that’d be crazy, right? The counter is like half his height.

“Shush, fucking cock sucker fairy.”

The bartender furrows his eyebrows, anger and fierceness slipping into his expression. In a quick move, he flips the other guy and throws him to the ground. Like he was just doing his flair routine.

“Leave before I stop asking it  _ nicely _ ,” the bartender says after landing next to the fallen not-so-good-citizen. His fiery red hair has barely gotten messed with all the commotion and his fierce eyes have this interesting sparkle under the throbbing lights. 

Ong Seongwu has a realization right then.

Cute bartender is… cute.

 

Ong Seongwu has an actual truer realization after he wakes up with a massive headache the next morning.

The bartender totally saved him. And he was a kickass.

  
  


 

 

**2.**

Seongwu comes back to the club the next day, a bit too early given that the place is almost empty and the hot employee that was at the door the day before is now polishing glasses behind the counter. His expression turns from calm to curious and slightly amused when Seongwu asks if his tiny co-worker is around.

“Which one?”

“Uh, small dude, red hair?” Seongwu describes, confused.

The amused tone is accentuated in the employee’s voice when he repeats “Which one?”. He also seems to be six seconds away from laughing right in his face. Yet the guy acts like a gentleman and puts down the glass and the cloth before giving Seongwu his whole attention and, wow. Handsome. Seongwu could never work with him without breaking at least three glasses. Per day. “Taehyun hyung or Sungwoon hyung?” the guy suggests.

So. There’s options.

“Uh. The cute but angry one?” he adds, hoping it’ll mean something to the other. His hopes seems to be in vain as the other just blinks, impassibly. “The taekwondo master?”

That brings some sort of clarity as the employee smiles, big and charming. Wow, make it three glasses and two bottles. Of the most expensive liquor with Seongwu’s luck. The guy does a quick gesture asking him to wait and goes closer to a back door with a _Watch out!_ _Staff only_ sign, maybe a storage room or a locker room.

Perhaps Seongwu mishears it, but he swears the employee yells a “Sungwoon hyung! Your handsome fanboy is looking for you!” Warmth creeps up his neck and ears and Seongwu really wishes he heard wrong because he hasn’t felt this embarrassed maybe since last night (this morning) or since he tripped over in his second day in the zoo and fell inside the turtle’s tank.

“Yah, Ko Hojung! Stop messing with me,” is yelled from the back door, a voice clear and loud and pretty much the same Seongwu remembers from last night, despite his drunken state. Small kickass bartender dud— _ Sungwoon _ , his brain corrects before he fucks up again with his loose brain-mouth filter—looks dishevelled, furrowed brows and messy hair plus extra sized hoodie; far distant from the composed look he sported the night before.

And yet, Seongwu can’t help but stare.

If he didn’t know better, Seongwu would have thought he was a college freshman, barely surviving his first midterms. He looks like he would need tons of coffee to function and, at the same time, like he has enough stamina to go on for days.

“Oh. You,” little dud— _ Sungwoon _ says when he notices him.

“Yes, me. I mean, I'm Ong Seongwu, nice to meet you,” he greets with the friendliest smile he's capable of mustering. He offers his hand out for a handshake, but is about to retract it two seconds later when he feels the other’s heavy gaze.

“You too, I guess,” Sungwoon shrugs as he shakes his hand casually. Seongwu can’t help but focus on the strength hidden in the small, callous palm. It’s almost like Sungwoon isn’t aware of his own strength or like he’s giving him an understated warning. “So what do you need?”

“Uh?”

“You were looking for me, right? What for?”

Perhaps Seongwu is imagining it, but he swears he hears some sort of suspicion underlining his words. He wonders why.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. It’s for… uh,” he tries to start, yet his brain has turned into a big jumble of thoughts, without structure nor correlation.

Maybe he shouldn’t have showed up. Tiny dude works in a bar, for god’s sake, he must deal with drunkards every week. Last night was nothing special, barely out of the ordinary. He surely only wanted to avoid any trouble in his workplace. So Sungwoon will most likely shrug it off and Seongwu will make an even bigger idiot of himself.

It doesn’t minimize the fact that Sungwoon stood up for him though.

And Ong Seongwu may be a lot of things, but not an ungrateful bastard.

“I want you to… teach me?” he blurts out instead.

“What?” Sungwoon squawks, expression tinted with disbelief and astonishment. Seongwu can’t blame him, he feels pretty much the same with the plus of a bit more of embarrassment mixed in. 

“You know, how to  _ Haaaaia! _ And  _ bam _ , man down. How do you do it?”

Sungwoon looks at him with an eyebrow raised and a small smile dancing in his lips. “With ten years worth of lessons,” he deadpans. Okay, yeah, he must have imagined that. No one is born with martial arts knowledge despite whatever shit Woojin usually claims, but the attitude. That’s innate. And Sungwoon has tons of manly and badass attitude hidden underneath his cute cheeks. “That’s all?”

“Yes. No, no!” Seongwu hastens to correct himself. He breathes in deeply, until his lungs are filled completely with air and anxiety, and straightens his back. “I actually want to thank you. For stopping that guy last night. So, thank you.”

For a brief moment, only the low chill hip hop music fills the silence. Sungwoon blinks, mouth hanging open. Two beats later, he sighs, the ghost of what could be a smile or relief creeping up his face.

“You’re welcome.” His voice is not loud as before, but still clear and smooth, almost honey-like. Enchanting. 

Seongwu goes blank for a moment. 

“I owe you a drink,” Seongwu jokes, out of awkwardness. He's happy that Sungwoon seems happy, but he hasn't thought trough beyond showing his gratitude. And bad jokes to ease himself and the atmosphere? He has a master’s degree in this.

Sungwoon scoffs. “Please, don’t. I prefer cash.”

“Sorry, I don't have a penny to my name. I'm pretty broke.”

“Are you? What happened with the  _ dream job _ you just got?” Sungwoon say, a bit of irony shading his words, maybe. 

“I did get it, but haven't seen my paycheck yet. If I'm lucky, I'll be able to save enough for a good couch this month.”

He can see the curiosity gleaming in Sungwoon’s eyes. He tries to cover it up a little by walking nonchalantly to the fridge to fetch a soda. He pours cola in a martini glass and in a champagne flute under the horrified gaze of hot employee—Hojung? “On the house,” he mutters and leaves the flute in front of Seongwu. “So, what is your job about?” he finally asks after sipping of his martini glass. 

In another situation, Seongwu would be laughing his lungs out at the image. The other guy not only looks like the living picture of a college freshman, but a rich college freshman—young and beautiful, grumpy and fancy. 

“I'm a caretaker at the zoo,” Seongwu answers. His back is straight and he holds his head high, a bright proud smile breaking through his barely contained expression. It's inevitable, he’s lucky enough to absolutely love his job. “And now I'm in charge of the aquaria, especially the seal exhibit.”

“You work with fish?” Sungwoon asks, an eyebrow raised. 

“ _ Seals. _ They’re my dudes. I take care of them every day and make them look pretty for the fans,” he tells him, excited and forgetting for a moment the flute of coke, the slightly louder music and the busier atmosphere around. He does notice that the bartender hasn't left to change his outfit for his work attire. “Seriously, the zoo has a facebook fan club page.”

A few giggles escape past Sungwoon‘s lips even if he tries hard to hide them in between sips of coke. “I'm sorry, it's a good job, I swear. It's just… you were bragging so much about  _ the dream job  _ and then you shouted something like  _ not in the face _ , that I thought—” he isn't able to finish the sentence when he goes into another fit of giggles.

Seongwu is definitely not pouting. Not even a bit. He’s just frowning and pursing his lips. The fleeting memory of Daniel's reaction when he confessed him his childhood dream jumps in his mind as he watches Sungwoon act in a similar way. Both are giddy but Daniel was a little more taken aback. It's not an usual dream, he knows, and at some point he was ashamed of himself and lied whenever he was asked. But his friend bugged him until he studied zoology and cheered on him since his first day as a volunteer. 

And Sungwoon now. Despite the way his words may sound, he doesn't seem to be doing a quick harsh judgment of him. Or so Seongwu wants to believe. Little hero seems a bit low-key temperamental but really nice and friendly overall. Easy to laugh and bicker with. 

“Listen, I work with this face,” Seongwu claims as he does a vague gesture for emphasis. “I do shows almost every day, twice per day during the weekends. And, yeah, the seals are actually the stars, but people also come to see me!”

“Wait, a seal show? Where the animals play with balls and all that?” the bartender blurts, amazement glinting in his eyes. Seongwu does pout at being ignored, but can't really blame him. His seal friends are amazing. “That's great! I'd love to see one.”

“And  _ me _ . Don't forget that I’m part of the show.” 

“Yeah, yeah. You too, I guess,” Sungwoon dismisses with a chuckle. 

“Hey, I got a few love calls from agencies and universities. Maybe soon I'll have to hire you as my bodyguard,” he jokes. Then he senses the lingering gaze on him, hot and disarming, and realizes what it must feel like. Bickering with a stranger, almost on the verge of flirting. Confidence and warmth spread through his body even if it has nothing to do with alcohol, he's drinking coke for god’s sake! “Pocket sized though,” he adds in a rush, out of awkwardness.

And just like that, the heavy atmosphere breaks along with a deep sigh. A cute frown grows in Sungwoon’s features as he threatens him, his chin held up high. “Pocket sized or not, I still can leave you unconscious.”

“That’s if you can reach my head.”

“Look how I can reach you, you lil’ shit,” Sungwoon hisses, both with a smirk and a murderous glint, as he raises his fist and swings it a his eye level. 

Seongwu bows twice in apology, laughing every time. He leaves soon after, not before being called annoying at least three times and slipping in a _Sungwoon_ _hyung_. 

  
  
  


 

**3.**

Daniel and Woojin take the KTX back to Seoul Tuesday morning, after a full week of performances and competitions and homemade food. As the great friend he is, Seongwu has the wonderful idea of picking them up from the train station—partially because he missed them a lot, partially because Daniel promised to bring him some of his mom’s amazing pork rice soup. What he didn’t expected was for them to bring this obnoxious huge trophy and the even more obnoxious big proud smiles he has ever seen. 

He can't help but mirror their expressions. 

“Congrats, first place,” he says in lieu of a greeting.

Daniel grins sheepishly. “You should’ve come. Too bad you couldn’t be there. It was awesome.”

“Yeah, you’d have failed so hard at your winner speech, hyung, but this time in satoori,” Woojin interjects, his own satoori slipping into his voice. And really. Seongwu tried to raise that kid as his rightful son and this is what he gets? He should stop letting him hang out with Park Jihoon.

“Dude, I just got the job. With an actual paycheck. I can’t ask for days off already,” he explains, still a bit sad. Dancing is his hobby since high school, when a friend invited him to a open dance class. But adulthood brought unasked for responsibilities, even if he loves waking up every morning to go to the zoo. At least he still can go to dance practice during the weekdays. “Also, you guys totally missed something too: I met the most amazing dude out there. I swear. You would have loved him.”

“Yeah?” Woojin asked, voice flat. Good thing he knows him better to read the interest in his gaze. Daniel is way more open about his emotions, eyebrows raised and full attention on him.

“Totally,” he beams, then nods for emphasis. “He’s this kickass black belt tiny dude. And he’s cute. They type that’d get Daniel cooing over him like a big dog.”

Just like that, his best friend smiles until his eyes turn into two half moons and Seongwu can almost see the big fluffy tail wagging. 

The crowd at the train station pushes them back and makes it a little hard to reach the exit carrying both the luggage and the trophy. Seongwu wonders how they did it during the train ride, but Woojin is the most logical explanation. The kid huffs under his breath and grabs both his bag and the trophy before sprinting all the way to the parking lot. So much energy, it makes Seongwu feel tired only by looking at him. Daniel only laughs as they follow him.

Outside, Woojin waits for them next to the car of Seongwu’s mom—because his son is the best driver out there and because she loves Daniel even more than Seongwu himself, go figure—, breathing heavily and already talking a mile a minute. He only picks out something along the lines of  _ a kid went to your show _ , but years of friendship help him understand that Woojin is asking for explanations in his rushed sassy manner. 

But as soon as Seongwu opens the car, Woojin slides into the back seat and fumbles with his phone, leaving to the other two the task of trying to fit the trophy inside the car.

“Well, Minhyun and I went to this bar to celebrate,“ he starts but has to pinch Daniel in his ribs to stop him from raising his stupid eyebrows in an suggestive way after the word  _ celebrate. _ “We just had some drinks! Then Minhyun left and… long story short, a big guy tried to punch me and cute bartender saved me doing some sort of Bruce Lee taekwondo moves.”

“Bruce Lee did wushu,” Woojin deadpans, finally looking up from his phone.

“Whatever,” Seongwu dismisses. “He did this and that and went all  _ Haaaia!  _ And  _ bam _ , big guy was on the ground.”

“Why did big guy try to hit you?” Daniel asks when they are finally inside the car.

“Not important.”

“Quoting great philosopher Park Jihoon,” Woojin starts solemnly, “ _ Everybody wants to smack the shit out of Seongwu hyung at some point _ .”

Seriously?

Right now he can’t wrap his head around why his mother loves his friend so much, especially when, once in the passenger seat, Daniel laughs and claps non-stop. In the rearview mirror he can also see Woojin’s smug smirk. And seriously? . 

He shouldn’t have come to pick them up.

“So, why are you telling us about him?” Woojin asks as he tries to accommodate better the big obnoxious trophy in the backseat. The things was hitting him in the knee with every curve and, well, serves him right.

“Haven’t you been listening? Dude is a kickass. A cute kickass who also happens to know how to prepare a superb… whatever-it’s-called cocktail.”

Next to him Daniel fumbles with the stereo and changes his Bruno Mars playlist for some Jason Derulo song they were practising last year. “We’ve been listening, man. Sounds like you have a crush,” his friends chortle, launching Seongwu into a coughing fit. “Aw, hyung, hyung! You totally have a crush. We have to meet him!”

_ What? No! _

“What? No!” he croaked. “Why?”

“Because you’re crushing on him,” Daniel grinned. Had it been anybody else, it would have sounded matter-of-factly or even sarcastic, yet his friend has the skill of always sounding honest and good-natured. “And we have to celebrate our win, right Woojinie?”

In the rearview mirror, Woojin nods. 

“Also, I need to be there when he goes all  _ Haaaaaia! _ on you, hyung,” Woojin adds, mimicking as he speaks a taekwondo move. That wooshes extremely near to Seongwu’s head. And Seongwu—kind of concentrated on the road like the good driver he is—doesn’t expect it. At all. 

Surprised, Seongwu loses control of the car and swerves to recover it. A symphony of horns booms as rabid and fast as his own breathing.

“Why would you do that, son?!”

 

 

 

**4.**

So, apparently it is possible to achieve a collective groan from a whole fifty-people crowd. Another feat accomplished by the great Ong Seongwu. In hindsight, this is the outcome of a very scientific logic after his friends didn’t give up on the subject. They were decided, they’d go to Six Hot Shots and get empirical evidence to support Seongwu’s statement.

With all the dignity and pose of a respectable scientist, Daniel says “So, as your best friends, we have to embarrass you.” 

At his side, Minhyun looks at him, eyebrows slightly furrowed in a mix of bewilderment and disapproval. Given the fact that he’s not out of loop because Seongwu called him this morning, Seongwu thinks that at least he picked a friend right.

Woojin snorts. “That hyung does it perfectly on his own.” 

Seongwu opens his mouth ready to complain, but closes it the next second. 

That… is kind of true. 

He has a large record under his belt of stupid things he has done. It’s not on purpose, of course, it’s just that at the time everything looks hilarious or right. It’s later when the shame kicks in. But, to be very honest, he prefers choosing his own way of mortifying himself than leaving it to his heathens of friends. 

Except Minhyun. He’s the only he can count on, most of the times. 

There’s a little stage set in the already small dancing area, making a bit harder to walk around. Weird, because he has thought that open mic nights are on Thursdays, not Wednesdays. A voice booms through the speakers, out of beat and failing to reach the right notes of a very well-known idol song.

Karaoke night. That gives Seongwu an awfully great idea.

But first. Booze.

“Sungwoon hyung!” he shouts as soon as they succeed in reaching the bar. The bartender turns around, eyes bright and curious. He seems to be in a good mood as he nods back. “Please give me and my handsome fellas five of your amazing, uh, punch cocktails. “

“You guys are four,” Sungwoon points out, an eyebrow raised.

“Oh, yeah, you’re right. Woojinnie here is barely legal, so make it four drinks and a virgin Cuba libre.” The laugh of the bartender is loud and clear, charming, and completely the opposite of that of Woojin, who shrieks a  _ what the hell dude, that’s overpriced plain cola _ ! Humming, Sungwoon sets five old fashioned glasses in a row and does his flair routine. “Thanks hyung, your drinks are the best. Just what I need,” he says as he gestures his friends to take a glass and he grabs two on his own. Liquid confidence.

And that’s how Seongwu gets smashed again. And brings him to this point. On stage.

The opening beat of  _ That’s what I like  _ triggers a few groans and shouting from the public. He wants to ask what is the problem. Yeah, maybe he sang it three times in a row but then he changed to  _ Finesse _ . And he’s pretty sure he sang  _ 24k magic _ at some point too. It’s only fair to play his favorite song again. 

The crowd starts shouting something right in the middle of the bridge and it takes Seongwu a full chorus to realize that it’s a name. 

How did they know his name it escapes his mind, but. “Not, you’re saying it wrong! I’m Brunong Mars!”

Someone chuckles in the crowd and a few cheers boom in the small pub when a guy climbs up the stage. Short guy with red dyed hair and pursed full lips.  _ Oh _ . For a moment, Seongwu fears that his idea backfired and now Sungwoon is going to taekwondo kick his ass out of there. 

He doesn’t. 

Sungwoon gives him a tiny amused smile instead and pats his shoulder before grabbing the mic. The melody changes, the full lips open and Seongwu goes blank. 

Utterly, completely, stupidly blank.

Sungwoon’s voice is beautiful. Clear, powerful, enchanting and every shade of lovely.

Lost in the song and in his drunken haze, it takes him a while to realize that is  _ Talking to the moon _ . This tiny perfect pocket sized badass dude. He’s stealing his heart one Bruno Mars song at a time. 

Seongwu smiles shyly as he joins for the second chorus and Sungwoon looks a bit annoyed at being interrupted, but lets him continue. They do an improvised duet, their voice tones blending together and harmonizing almost perfectly, except for the few words Seongwu can’t pronounce correctly and babbles instead. Even the public is following the performance in silence.

But the song reaches its end and Sungwoon sighs before starting to move. To walk away, to go down the stage. Seongwu likes to believe that it isn’t panic but fast thinking when he plays  _ That’s what I like _ again. “Come on Sungwoon hyung! Stay!” he bursts into the mic as he grabs Sungwoon’s small hand on impulse. And, okay, he does panic. “Hey Minhyunnie, join us!”

He thinks he hears a groan somewhere. He also thinks Sungwoon bites his lips firmly. 

The truth is: someone in the crowd is really not happy and throws a paper ball at Seongwu, hitting him right in his chest. Seongwu stares at it for a moment, blinking. Then throws it back without real strength, but maybe—just maybe—he throws his drink too. For a split second he swears he sees a wide range of horror and surprise in his friends’ faces when the guy gets up decidedly and walks over to Seongwu, face reddened and clenched fist ready.

Sungwoon steps in front of him, stern expression and warning hand held high. “Let’s not fight in here.”

It’s not a warning, really, more like a mediation, but Seongwu just can see the way this little dude is small in height but so impressive and huge in attitude and presence. He only blinks as the guy grumbles and goes back to his seat, but wakes up the moment Sungwoon tugs at his hand. It’s... nice. 

Seongwu is about to finally get down from the stage when another idea strikes his mind. 

_ “Give me your, give me your, give me your attention baby,” _ he begins singing without the instrumental nor the lyrics. He sings from memory and from the bottom of his heart; “ _ I got to tell you a little something about yourself. You're wonderful, flawless, oh you're _ — Minhyun!”

Minhyun is there, gently pulling him down the stage and making him release his grasp on Sungwoon. Daniel is also there, barely holding back his laughter as he drags Seongwu towards the back. Meanwhile he can see that Woojin is recording everything on his phone, a big smile breaking through his usually bored face. Most probably to show it later to Park Jihoon. That’s when he realizes that he really, really raised that kid wrong.

Before they leave the place, Daniel asks them to wait a second and drops Seongwu’s arm. His friend makes his way through the crowd in a rush, calling Sungwoon’s name when he reaches the bar. 

A bitter taste, way different from the refreshing sweetness he was drinking earlier, spreads over his mouth. “See? I told ya Daniel would love him. He’ll steal him from me.”

  
  
  


 

**5.**

“So. I was an idiot. Again,” he mumbles to himself as he watches the video Woojin sent him this morning. He’s been watching it almost non-stop and even if he can appreciate the fun side of the situation, he can also appreciate all the emotions that go through Sungwoon’s features. Amusement, annoyance, confusion, sternness. 

He didn’t want to give him a hard time, he just wanted… He doesn’t know what he wanted. To see Sungwoon? To show how kickass the guy can be? Both?

It doesn’t matter. Whatever it was, he should apologize. And this time he swears to god and all the seals at his care that he won’t drink a single thing. 

Minhyun tags along, especially after the billion texts Seongwu sent him this morning. He has the important task of watching over him and maybe kick him if he blurts something stupid or out of place. Thursday nights are less busy, the bar crowd more or less intimate depending on the people who sign in for open mic. Seongwu is decided to stay away from the stage. Instead, he makes a beeline for the counter.

Sungwoon is there, humming under his breath and with his soft dyed hair falling above his eyes. He seems to be in a good mood, calm at least, so Seongwu hesitates if he should really talk to him.

A small dude passes by behind Sungwoon and looks like he sneers something under his breath which gets him a nasty stare from Sungwoon. Given the height and the also red hair—it’s Taehyun. Or so Hojung called him, right?

“Brunong Mars! You came back quickly,” Taehyun exclaims.

Sungwoon turns around, a bit surprised. Then he nods in lieu of a greeting. 

“Two Ti’ punches?”

Seongwu shakes his head vehemently. To his right, Minhyun pipes in, “Water would be fine.”

“Water? In a bar?” Taehyun remarks, eyebrow raised. 

“Don’t mind him,” Sungwoon says as he pours two glasses of mineral water. “I’m pretty sure he’s a closeted ONCE. I saw him dancing to ‘Signal’ and ‘Likey’ just to make some Chinese or Japanese dude laugh.”

The mental image makes him laugh. Maybe it’s the annoyed expression on Taehyun’s face or the way Sungwoon mocks his co-worker that makes him double his laughter, until his body is shaking and he loses control of his long limbs. And because he’s Ong Seongwu, he also drops the glass and all its liquid over the counter and Minhyun. Maybe it’s because he’s used to by now, but still—Bless his friend for being so composed as he dismisses his apologies and just excuses himself in order to go to the bathroom.

Seongwu is pretty sure those slacks are new. He should at least pay for tonight’s bill. And the laundry.

“Are you two dating?” Sungwoon asks, out of nowhere. Voice flat, as if he were speaking about the weather. Or trying to start small chit-chat while he cleans the counter to make time pass by faster. Seongwu mumbles an  _ uhhh _ unintelligently. Sungwoon sighs and closes his eyes, like he was caught in something. “Almost every time you are here you are with that guy—the tall handsome prince like one. What, did you choose this place to be like your dating spot? Because lame.”

Seongwu chokes on his drink. “Uh, no? What makes you think…?”

Sungwoon sighs again. Suddenly, he looks more tired than young. 

“Listen, I work with customers all day. In a bar. You wouldn’t be the first handsome jerk to try to flirt with me while their partner is waiting for them at home. Or even when they are in the bar.”

Then it dawns on him what Sungwoon is saying. 

“Oh, no. No, no, no. Handsome? Yes. Dumb? Apparently, hell yes. Jerk? No way,” he denies and shakes his head for emphasis. “Minhyun did bring me here most of the times, but… we’re just friends. I swear.” And he’d swear in the name of god or the seals if he needs to.

The bartender looks at him impassibly, almost void of any emotion. Reticent. “So you just come here because of him?”

“What? No!” he squeals, almost louder than the performer on stage. Seongwu wonders if Sungwoon is one of those who likes to play hard to get. Or one who just hates to lose. “Listen,” in his desperation he may have raised his voice a little. Just a little. “I don’t like Minhyun. At all. Well, I do like him. But as a friend! And as a friend I tagged along when he came here for drinks, but now I come here completely on my own.”

“You’re not  _ on your own _ .”

“Yeah, right. Minhyun is just here to stop me from acting like a huge idiot, which he clearly isn’t doing,” he explains, bitter. He breathes in to calm down a little and scratches his neck. “Actually I’m here because of  _ me.  _ I wanted to see you, hyung. I want to see you. At work, out of work. I want… to see you. I want you to want to see me. I even want to protect you, somehow—not in the martial art field clearly. But. I want it. I want to entertain you too. Even if I look like a damn fool with my million stupid gags and Bruno Mars covers. I—“

A hand lands in his shoulder and his friend’s soft voice stops him from going on with his ramble. And maybe from hyperventilating a little. When he looks up front, Sungwoon looks taken aback.

For the first time in his life, Seongwu wants to punch himself.

Where are the good citizens and followers of philosopher Park Jihoon when Ong Seongwu needs to be smacked right in the face?

“Hey, Sungwoon-ah,” calls Taehyun, going near them. He is glaring straight at Seongwu though. Ko Hojung was wrong the other day—Taehyun looks small and angry and definitely not cute right now. He seems menacing, ready to jump on Seongwu and beat the shit out of him. And Seongwu’s pretty sure he wouldn’t be saved by his tiny hero this time. “Is this guy giving you trouble?”

After two beats, Sungwoon purses his lips.

“No. Not at all.”

  
  
  


**+1**

Seongwu ends his show and takes care of the seals as the crowd thins out. Some children get closer to look better at the seals so Seongwu decides to do a small trivia about the animals at his care. He even tries to coax Ongsealie out of the water so the kids can have a better look, tricking it with food. Seongwu already tried to lift Ongsealie once—he almost got a hernia. Never again.

“Come on, dude. Look! All of these small friends came to see you!” he says and points at the crowd of kids. 

Then he notes someone in the middle, taller than all the children and definitely older, with cherry red hair. The guy wears sunglasses that make him look like an asshole and yet like the fanciest person on the planet, full lips relaxed in a loose smile.

His breathing halts for moment and he forgets about his uncooperative seal.

“You did say you wanted to see me out of work, right?” the guy screams.

And, yeah. He did say it. Just—

He feels something hard and wet hitting him in the cheeks—then, it pushes him to the side. He is so dazzled, so astonished that he misses the opportunity to regain stability and falls back into the tank. Ongsealie barks happily and swims around him as the crowd of children erupts in laughter. 

“Sungwoon hyung?” he questions. He can’t believe his eyes right now, he can’t believe that this little dude is standing right in front of him with tight jeans and a soft beige sweater, offering his hand out to help him. “I thought you wouldn’t want to see my dumb face again.”

Sungwoon makes a sound between a snort and giggle, absolutely endearing. “I thought about it better. Your dumb face is kind of extremely handsome.”

“I know it,” he boasts. He tries to avoid the fact that he’s drenched right now, flat wet hair sticking to his forehead. They step farther from the tank, towards the exhibition’s exit. There’s still some people gathering around, but he guesses he can ask for help from one of his co-workers. “Last time… last time I wanted to say sorry. For acting like an idiot, I guess. It wasn’t my intention. So, sorry,” he offers shyly.

“Don’t be. You’re kind of… endearing,” Sungwoon confesses, like he’s working hard on trying to look composed. Seongwu smiles at that, so much that his cheekbones might hurt later. “I guess I was a bit too suspicious.”

“It’s okay, hyung. I get it. Not every customer is cute and innocent like the children that come here. In your line of work you must face a lot of jerks. But I’m not one of those,” he promises. The other guy bites his lip and it’s kind of distracting, but also kind of scary. It jitters Seongwu. “I’d swear it on Ongsealie, but that’s the dude that hit me back there so… please, believe me.”

A beautiful smile blooms in Sungwoon’s face as he adjusts his sunglasses. “I do. I did before too. Your friend was so sure of that, after all.”

“Minhyun?”

Sungwoon shakes his head. “The other one. The guy with insane broad shoulders,” he explains a mimics the breadth of the shoulders. “When you went full Brunong Mars, he came to pay the bill and insisted that you were a good guy.”

His chest swells, filled with so much pride. His friends are nothing but fantastic. He did pick them right. 

They walk aimlessly towards the public area. The sun shines bright in the sky and the day is scalding hot, so Seongwu will dry soon. They go for two cups of iced coffee to the zoo café, where Jisung gives Seongwu a 50% discount since he promised to never mess with his wild animals plushies again.

“Last time… I thought you'd want to punch me at some point,” he says after handling him a cup.

“I did. I wanted to punch you in the mouth so you’d be quiet for once,” Sungwoon bickers and looks at him from above his sunglasses, a glint of mischief sparkling even in the sunlight. “Even if it was just to hear you yell  _ not in the face! _ again.”

Up Seongwu’s neck creeps up warmth that he’ll totally blame on the scorching hot day. “Hey, I do work with this face!” he insists again, voice a little whiny, maybe. The other guy laughs loudly and freely, so much clearer now  that there’s no music but the chirping noise of the exoctic birds. It’s so, so charming. Sungwoon pats his shoulder too as he heaves to normalize his breathing. A weird thought strikes Seongwu and he can’t help but ponder on it. 

Sungwoon is like the cocktail he always makes for him. Small but powerful, able to defeat someone with only a punch, yet somehow mellow, sweet and so, so refreshing. 

Seongwu could drink it forever. 

The little dude looks at him, relaxed. Yet his full plush lips can’t stop smiling apparently and Seongwu wishes they’ll never stop. 

“But if you want to punch me, I’d gladly take it. If it’s with your lips,” Seongwu says and doesn’t even blink or cringe at his own embarrassment. He has mastered this.

On the other hand, Sungwoon scrunches his nose and fakes nausea. “You’ll taste like fish.”

“Technically, they’re mammals.”

  
  


( **+1**

It’s not a punch. Not even a hit. It’s smooth, without any trace of aggressiveness. Over the counter, with chill music in the background, neon lights and low cheers. An alcohol-spurred, languid sweet kiss. Sungwoon’s full lips move slowly, almost like a caress and Seongwu feels like he’s being pushed into an endless spiral that gets him dizzy.

Seongwu is giddy and it isn’t as much fault of the rum as it is of Sungwoon’s tongue.

They break into giggles. “See? Fish,” Sungwoon bickers.

Seongwu sings. “ _ Treasure! That is what you are. Honey, you're my golden star” _ _.) _

  
  
  



End file.
